


There is something dreadfully lonely about number 12 Grimmauld place

by Garecc



Series: A Ballad Of Magic And Terror [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, No Plot/Plotless, No beta we die like regulus, Number 12 Gimmauld Place, Sad, Some Plot, Thats the fic the fic is number 12 grimmauld place, as in reg dies and sirius goes to jail, but thats about the furthest thing from the focus, canon ending, like its 1 sentance, no clue how to tag this to be entirely honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22808773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garecc/pseuds/Garecc
Summary: Number 12 Grimmauld place has a thousand stories inside its walls. Every cursed item has a story, every room has had multiple residents. Generations of Blacks have grown up within its walls.This is a window into the history of the house and also Sirius and Regulus's childhood.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Sirius Black
Series: A Ballad Of Magic And Terror [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1509704
Comments: 6
Kudos: 101





	There is something dreadfully lonely about number 12 Grimmauld place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youurelovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youurelovely/gifts).



> I use wix/wixen as a gender-neutral term for wizards and witches, also i couldnt tell you whats happening here because I honestly couldnt tell you. The story is number 12 grimmauld place. I guess

There is something dreadfully lonely about number 12 Grimmauld place.

The building is tall, imposing. Leaning over onlookers like it may swallow them whole.

For a house where generations of children grew up, for a house so full of heirlooms and memorabilia, for a house with family magic so strong it has settled into the walls, number 12 Grimmauld place is well, a very grim, old place.

There are a thousand stories that have taken place in this house. A thousand spells cast inside.

But despite everything, number 12 Grimmauld place could _never_ be called a home.

* * *

_Inside the house, you are greeted by the parlor. A well decorated room with expensive furniture and silk curtains. Painting a picture of frivolous wealth without regard for expence. On the mantle above the fireplace, there was once a portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black._

* * *

The hallway of the third floor leads to Sirius Orion's and Regulus Arcturus’ rooms.

The doors face each other across the hall.

Close enough to hear each other.

Close enough to hear the nightmares in the dark.

Close enough to hear the sobs when they think the other has to be asleep.

Close enough.

The distance between the rooms may be hardly a few steps, but the portraits are always watching. Always listening. Always so, so eager to report wrongdoing back to the mistress of the house.

The distance between the rooms may be hardly a few steps, and fewer as they grow, but the chasm between them grows, and the steps become miles. 

* * *

_Number 12 Grimmauld place is full of cursed items. Of heavily warded rooms. Of monsters and skeletons in closets._

* * *

When Sirius was 13, he spent the long arduous summer peeling the wards away from his window.

Peeling away Orion's harsh defense wards, unwinding Pollux's rather gruesome hexes, ever so carefully picking a hole in Cygnus' too-sensitive alarms, and widening the already aging gaps in Phineas's location wards.

Orion would have killed him if he had found out.

One could say it's a good thing he died before having the chance.

* * *

_Walburga and Phineas’s portrait argued often. It was one of the very few in the house that could be called sentient if you stretched the definition far enough._

_It's unsurprising that in the end, she replaced it with a portrait of herself._

_She had always been a vain and narcissistic woman, but one does wonder why Phineas never thought of permanent sticking charms._

* * *

It had never been an uncommon thing for Sirius to slink out through his window on his broom and wander through muggle London.

The stars, him and his Houses namesakes glisten and glitter in the sky so very far above. They look down. Staring, almost glaring at him. Ever watchful as he wanders the streets.

Sometimes he would buy some small knick-knack and hide it in his room. Sometimes he would buy a poster, or, on one particularly memorable occasion, some rather loud speakers and muggle music. 

(It wasn't uncommon for Regulus to notice Sirius sneaking out, but Regulus was _anything_ but a snitch) 

* * *

_The first rule of growing up in number 12 Grimmauld place is do not touch anything that could be cursed._

_Sirius has a scar on his palm from when he grabbed a drawer handle to open it, and it **grabbed him back.**_

* * *

On the second landing of number 12 Grimmauld place, there is a large gash in the wood of the railing on the stairs.

When Regulus was younger, when Bellatrix still watched them, she once told him that it was from when a mudblood broke in to steal their riches, and that was where their ancestor had slammed them into the wall and banished them from the house.

That answer had satisfied him for years, until, of course, he wondered how the mudblood could have possibly broken in with all the wards.

He’s never had much of an explanation for that.

* * *

_Many years in the future, twins Fred and George Weasley, grandsons of Cedrella Black, decide they are going to throw those rules out the window, and touch_ **_everything._**

* * *

Sirius and Andromeda would often sit in the backyard, with the bushes that bite and the flowers that spit and hiss, in a mutual yet silent agreement of a hundred unsaid truths.

And they would talk.

Not of the monsters in the closet, or the ominous gashes in the railing of the stairs.

But of life, and the smaller, kinder blessings.

Andromeda would talk in a hushed tone of her boyfriend, Edward Tonks. Of how she planned to elope with him before Lucius came of age and she would be forced to marry. And Sirius would respond just as quietly, about _his boyfriend,_ Remus Lupin.

Their quiet and small rebellions against the stifling nature of the House and it's crushing weight. Against the expectations on their shoulders.

In times like this, number 12 Grimmauld place felt a little less lonely.

* * *

_Many years in the past, a young lady named Dorea Black climbed up the stairs, heading back up to her room with a glass of water in hand. Her younger brother, Pollux, scares her, and she stumbles. Shattering the glass against the railing as she tries to grab it to steady herself._

_The glass carves a chunk of wood from the railing, and slices open her palm._

_Marius, her elder brother, bandages her hand while her sister, Cassiopeia fetches the dittany from downstairs._

_For the rest of her life, Dorea has a scar on her palm from the glass that cut open her hand and carved a chunk of wood from the railing._

* * *

In the attic of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, there is an old wardrobe that rattles and screams.

Sirius only ever opened it once, he was only 11, and Bellatrix dared him under the guise that it was entirely safe.

Sirius came down from the attic pale and shaking, and Andromeda scooped him into a hug while Bella had laughed and laughed.

Later, Sirius made Regulus promise to never, ever open it. That there was something in it. Something dangerous, something evil.

Regulus heeded his warning, with everything in this house, he wouldn't be surprised if there was a literal monster in the closet.

* * *

_On the second floor of number 12 Grimmauld Place, at the end of the hallway under a silent, ever-watching portrait of a long-dead woman there is a red stain on the floor._

_No one in living memory recalls how it got there._

_Sirius is rather sure it is blood, but Regulus insists it isn't._

_Neither of them know for certain, and the oldest portraits go silent when asked._

* * *

In 1976, Sirius runs away.

He gets on his broom, and flies out his window.

Weeks later he’s sitting at the table in Potter Manor while they eat dinner. He and James are laughing.

James’ father, Fleamont catches sight of the scar on Sirius’s palm.

“My cousin Charlus’s wife has a scar there.” He says idly between bites of food. “I think her name is Dorea, they live in America now, though.”

* * *

_When Marius Black was disowned, he had no idea what he was going to do with his life._

_Before then, his family had no idea what to make of him, so they taught him how to manage the Houses' finances._

_As things turn out, muggle money and wixen money aren't all that different._

_So Marius Black became an accountant._

* * *

Walburga Black has always been a vain, narcissistic woman.

Obsessed with her reputation and legacy.

Her son, her Houses heir, had proven himself a worthless, disgraceful blood traitor.

That, of course, reflects back on her _terribly_.

After all, what kind of pure-blood is she, if she raises her heir into a blood traitor?

She swears to herself she will redeem her name, that she will win back the honor that Sirius spat on.

Bellatrix is already a death eater, and well?

Death eaters are respected, even more so with those who Walburga seeks to impress. She herself had sat in on several Knights Of Walpurgis meeting back in her Hogwarts days. 

So she has Regulus become a death eater.

Regulus Arcturus Black officially becomes a death eater when he is 16 years old, about 2 and a half months before his 17th birthday.

* * *

_Sirius is bringing himself honor in his own way._

_FIghting for good._

_Fighting for what is right_

_Fighting for justice._

_Fighting for the light._

* * *

Regulus Black dies when he is 17.

Regulus Black dies alone, afraid, and convinced everyone he still cares for hates him.

Walburga’s endless angry screams echo through his skull, calling him a failure. A dissapointment. A blood traitor.

Bellatrix’s shrill laughter as she mocks him for struggling to cast Cruciatus. 

Narcissa’s cold, silent anger. 

Andromeda’s chilled, clipped words to him as she mourns who he could have been. 

Sirius’s disappointed eyes staring into his soul, the night he left, the fights in the days before. 

They dance before his eyes as he leans down to drink from the lake. The too-pale, long-dead arms of the inferni pull him under. He orders Kreacher to leave, and chokes on the filthy, soiled water. 

When death finally comes, he welcomes it.

Regulus Black died cold, scared, and drugged by a potion meant to kill.

Regulus Black was only 17 when he died.

* * *

_On the second floor of number 12 Grimmauld Place, at the end of the hallway under a silent, ever-watching portrait of a long-dead woman there is a red stain on the floor._

_It is the blood of the long-dead muggle man who owned this house before he was murdered and his house stolen well over 200 years ago._

* * *

In 1981, Sirius Orion Black is arrested for a crime he did not commit. 

He spends over a decade in prison, and escapes in 1993.

He returns to Number 12 Grimmauld place.

It's been 2 years since his grandfather, Arcturus Black died.

It's been 8 years since Walburga Black died.

It's been 14 years since Orion Black died.

It's been 14 years since Regulus died.

There is something dreadfully lonely about number 12 Grimmauld place.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment and kudos :D


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